Rat
by Fenrir Greyback
Summary: Peter Pettigrew's last few seconds of life...and his thoughts.


**A/N**: Beta'd by my sister. This is the first Peter fanfiction I've done! It switches between the past and present, memories and not. _Italics_ are memories. Woot! Here we go. 

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, J.K Rowling owns all. Yup!

"Stand back!" Peter Pettigrew said in his most commanding tone of voice. It broke off into a quaver at the end. Grimacing, he went on, "Stand away from the door. I am coming in."

With his silver hand he pushed open the door -- to reveal a brightly lit, though empty, cellar. His jaw dropped, his mouth forming an 'o' of surpise. Already his legs were starting to tremble.

_This can't be!_

* * *

_"Oy, Pete_._"_

_The round faced boy didn't raise his head or give any sign he had heard at all_.

_"Peter!" he tried instead_.

_He finally stopped, looking back over his shoulder to see a messy-haired, grinning James Potter_.

* * *

"Hhhaa -- !" Peter tried to shout out a warning to his fellows above, but a hand clamped down on his mouth, just as another forced his wand arm into the air. He writhed like the rat he was -- fighting to free himself from those unexpected, grasping hands. Heart pounding in his chest, he knew -- if he let himself be overpowered, that it was over -- he was dead. In desperation, he threw a hand out, curling the silver digits around the nearest throat. 

"What is it, Wormtail?" Lucius Malfoy called.

"Nothing!"

Peter twitched, recognizing the voice as Ron Weasley's. You can hardly spend two and a half years sleeping curled up at the foot of someone's bed without being able to tune in to that sort of thing.

"All fine!"

"You're going to kill me?"

This was the Potter boy's voice.

Peter's eyes focused on him now. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it was him before, but the swiftness of the attack had distracted him. His eyes roved, slowly, over the familiar face...

* * *

_"_Me_?" Peter asked testily, unsure why James Potter, second-year Quidditch star, would single him out in the hallways_. 

_"No, 'course not_._ I meant that old crone behind you_._" he pointed, grinning when Peter looked over his shoulder to see the statue of the hump backed witch_._ "We've named her Peter_._"_

_"Alright then_._"_

_To James' dismay, the brown-haired boy turned on his heel and started off again_._ "Hey, wait!" he exclaimed_.

_Reluctantly, Peter turned around again_. _"Yeah?" he muttered_.

_"I was kidding," James said, raising his eyebrows_._ "Just pulling your leg, you know?"_

_"So what do you want?" Peter asked, not unkindly_;_ he was speaking with a blunt reason that said he couldn't believe James would seek him out for no particular reason_.

_For a second he almost felt ashamed of himself_._ Because yes, he was definitely guilty of playing some nasty pranks on this one_._ "Does one Gryffindor need a reason to talk to another Gryffindor?" James asked, flashing his most charming smile_.

_"Yes_._" Peter replied_.

_"Ouch_.

* * *

Harry was trying to pull the fingers away from his throat, but of course it was no use, the hand Lord Voldemort had gifted him with was wonderfully strong... 

"After I saved your life?"

Peter tensed up.

* * *

_Christmas at Hogwarts_. _There was no better time_._ Normally, Peter sat inside, watching the boys and girls on the grounds with a kind of quiet resentment_._ But today not even he could resist the pull of snow_. _Bundling up in boots, gloves, and several thick jumpers, he left the Gryffindor common room behind for the nippy corridors, and after that, the grounds themselves_. 

_James Potter was outside, perched on a branch of one of the trees near the lake_.

_Peter's eyebrows furrowed as he watched him_.

Shouldn't he be home with his family?_ he wondered_._ Potter had gone last year_...

_But when he noted Lupin and Black, he figured he must have stayed for their company_.

_Making sure to give the group a wide berth, he crunched his way through the snow and over to the frozen lake_._ There were a few students already out there so Peter crouched down, took off his boots, and replaced them with a pair of old skates_.

_A minute later he was out on the lake, worries forgotten as he glided over the ice_.

_It didn't matter that he wasn't good in any of his classes_.

_Or good looking for that matter_.

_It didn't matter that he didn't have as many friends as a boy might like, either_..._because here he was weightless_._ Nothing could hold him down_._ Not even the reluctant laugh of Remus Lupin, one night, as Sirius Black told him a very funny joke involving Peter -- when he didn't think Peter was near enough to hear_...

Crack!

_Startled, Peter looked down just in time to see the ice splitting_.

* * *

"After I saved your life?" 

Peter looked into a face that was extraordinarily James Potter's, straight down to the curve of the jaw and the frown of the mouth...

Harry's words had gone through him like a knife.

He loosened his grip by a hair.

* * *

_James Potter was up and sprinting with all the speed of a stag scented by wolves before either of his friends even realized what had happened_. 

_"James -- what -- ?" Sirius called_.

_But recognition was crossing Remus' pale face_.

_"Run! Run! Run!" James shouted, his eyes fixed on the spot where Peter Pettigrew had just gone down_.

* * *

Peter's eyes widened when the boy pulled away, looking as surprised as he felt. 

He thrashed, dreading the end, knowing it was near and terrified because of it. He didn't want to die, yet he knew he would because the silver hand that had once seemed a fantastic gift was about to be turned upon him...

He knew what would happen even before the silver digits twitched to life.

* * *

_Cold! Ice hot cold!_

_Peter Pettigrew thrashed, screaming in his own head_.

_Then his struggles ceased_.

_And then he sunk, weighed down by Hogwarts robes and second-hand skates_.

_Down into the crushing blackness of the lake_.

* * *

"And we'll have that," Ron whispered, yanking Peter's wand from his other hand. He didn't notice, focused too intently on the silver one. It was rising like a snake unfurling from the snake charmer's basket -- mesmerizingly livid, headed straight for his throat. 

"No -- " Harry gasped, throwing a hand out to grip Peter's wrist.

* * *

_The darkness was lifting_. 

_Peter stirred_.

_"_..._d'you think he's_..._?"_

_"_..._I dunno_..._"_

_If anything, he felt colder than before_._ He shuddered, half wishing for the crushing blackness again_. _But then he opened his eyes a fraction, and saw the other boy_.

_Shaggy bangs sodden and hanging in a ghostly white face, James Potter lay inches from him in the snow_.

Why?_ he thought, desperately_. Why?

_"_...

* * *

Peter gasped for air but it would not come; the fingers were like iron bands pressing in around his throat. 

"No!"

The other pair of hands released him, joining in the struggle to pull the crushing fingers from his throat. _Why? Why? Why?_ he wanted to bark at them. There was no reason these boys should be concerned for him! No reason at all.

After all he had done...

"_Relashio!_" the Weasley boy's voice again; the spell hadn't any affect.

Peter dropped to his knees -- why? Because he was weak from the lack of oxygen? Or because the full weight of everything had just fallen upon him?

James Potter was a good man.

Harry Potter was a good man as well.

And Peter was...

The rat.

_I'm sorry_.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he again welcomed the crushing blackness.

* * *

_Peter opened his eyes to be blinded by a bright, white light_._ He groaned, throwing his hands up (both pink and clammy and neither one silver) to shield his watering eyes_. 

_"Good of you to join us, Pete_._"_

_He inhaled sharply, spreading his fingers a fraction to peek out between the cracks_.

_"J-J-James?" he stammered_.

_"No, Santa_._" James Potter replied, grinning all over his handsome face_._ He threw his striped, pajama'd legs over the edge of the bed he was in, and sat up_.

_Peter blinked, staring at him_._ "I'm sorry_._" he said, finally_.

_"Yeah, well_..._" James said, looking rather moody_._ He glanced sideways_. _"Next time you decide to go for a dip in the lake warn me, won't you?"_

_He nodded weakly, answering, "Yeah_..._definitely!"_

**A/N**: I tried to portray Peter as a person who started out good enough but lost touch somewhere along the way. I didn't want to try to do anything to actually excuse him toward the end; nothing will make the betrayal of his friends "okay".

I guess I just wanted to show that no matter how much you mess up you might still find redemption if you want it (not that he deserves it!).

The end can be interpreted as just more memory, the afterlife, or (to be even more hopeful) it could be seen as the present, with Peter's death and the betrayal of James as only a strange dream he had while he was unconscious in the hospital wing. Could change the future, n'eh? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway, leave your thoughts if you have the time!


End file.
